The Magic Games
by dauntlesspottribute
Summary: In a logical and desperate act to save her sister Jean, Hermione Granger volunteers as a champion on the annual Magic Games organised by her country's totalitarian government. Along with Ron Weasley, the son of the local inventor and a housewife, Hermione faces her destiny at the Ministry fighting in the Magic Games
1. The selection, part I

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own either The Hunger Games nor Harry Potter._

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The reaping, part I.

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I've been hunting my whole life since my dad was crushed in that gold mine we have in the district. At the beginning I only did small charms, like stupefying little animals and then killing them with a pocket knife, but as I grew and my name entered in the selection more times, I reached the point of killing the animals with magic. I know, it's illegal, but President Riddle uses those spells in executions. And I am already using an illegal wand and magic, so I am not going to spend my time using ridiculous charms. I want to feed my family. I don't want Jean to starve to death. And mother... Well, my mother is another story.

After hunting a couple of squirrels and a small mountain cat, I spot a miracle. A doe. That thing means either food for a month or money enough to buy Jean a pretty thing. I hide my self behind a couple of bushes, still staring at her. She is huge, probably pregnant, which makes it easy to me to kill her. I find a good angle, and without making my self noticeable I start to say the spell. But then...

"What on Merlin's bloody name are you going to do with that?"

The voice startles me and the spell comes out wrong. The tree right next to the doe turns completely blue and she rans away.

"What's the deal with you, Potter?" I turn around, half-furious, half-trying to suppress an smile.

"I'm serious Hermy, how would you carry that doe through the district without any Auror spotting it?" He's right, and he knows I know he's right, but I'm not going to give him that pleasure.

"Why do you think I wanted it? To sell it to Aurors. And stop calling me Hermy, we're not seven anymore Potter".

"Guess you're right" he says with smile, looking at my hunt "What's the deal with the squirrels?" He asks pointing them out.

"The baker loves them. He gave me the other day a really fancy pink cookie for Jean in exchange of one. She waited three hours until she ate it, just to make sure everybody had seen it".

"That's something I can see Jean doing" he says, laughing to himself. He sits right next to me and we both just stare at the forest for a while. The tree I casted a spell before is still blue, but it's fading. That's the thing about borrowed wands. The magic disappears after a while. After this long silence, Harry says the same words he repeats every time we're hunting.

"We could do it, you know"

"Do what?" I say as if I already didn't know where he is going.

"Run away. Live in the woods. We could hunt for the living. Build a home. Scape from the Ministry".

"They'll hunt us down" I reply.

"They won't, Riddle is too scared of sending his precious Aurors into the woods" he says, looking at me through his round glasses. "We could take Jean and your mother with us, and also my mum and Sirius and..."

"Harry, no" I stop him. He does the same exact thing everyday, trying to convince me. But no. I've seen what the Ministry does to the ones who scape. Torture, complete control over thoughts, death, washing your memory... I've even heard about deleting all your magic powers and transform you into a Squib.

He looks again to the forest, in silence. After a moment, he smiles again, stands up, and looks at me with a wide smile.

"Welcome, welcome, to the 74th annual Magic Games" he starts theatrically. I laugh a bit and continue his speech.

"At let destiny guide you through the path" I finish, smiling.


	2. The selection, part II

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own either Harry Potter nor The Hunger Games_

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The reaping, part II

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After carefully leaving the woods and buying something in the Burrow with the meat we have, Harry and I go to the back door of the town hall. We always try to summon a couple of opal gems, because the major loves them. There is always a point in which everybody gets tired of rubies and gold.

After giving the guards a small amount of opals and getting paid two sickles, we get back to the Burrow to spend the last opals and the money. We never save anything, we could have a surprise search and if they find sickles in our home, we will need a really good excuse.

But when we are turning the corner of the building, Harry and I ran into a mass of satin and red hair. Of course, who but her was not going to be around here.

"You could at least say sorry you ass- oh, Hermione, Harry, it's you" her pretty face turns as red as her hair.

Ginny Weasley, the daughter of the mayor. She wears a red-and-gold gown, colors of our district, and her hair is pulled up in a braided bun hold up with a barrette of a golden bird surrounded by rubies. The bun makes her face more angular, but also more pretty and charming. She has always been pretty and delicate, and also quite friendly with me, but I suspect that it's an attempt of getting close to Harry. He has that... Thing. It's like charisma floated around him.

"Hi Ginny, pretty gown" Harry says, his bright eyes looking right into her almond ones. Ginny blushes more.

"Well, I have to look pretty if I end up in the Ministry" she mutters with a smile.

And there's when she has crossed the line. Harry's face turns from sweet to furious.

"You're not. How many times is your name in the Selection? Five? Six? I had eight when I was only twelve. My name is probably around fifty times in that hat. Don't say stupid thing Ginny. Come on Hermione, my mom has something for you." That's a lie, Lily, has nothing for me, but that's the way Harry masks his pain. He already lost a little brother in last year's Games. He doesn't want to loose people again. But that's the way everything has gone, and it'll continue that way.

"Bye Ginny" I say, managing a small smile. I wish I could tell her the truth, but Harry would kill me if I did so.

I know Harry doesn't want to talk about it, so I mutter a excuse about helping Jean get into her dress and I go home, my pockets still full of tiny opals and a couple of sickles and knuts.

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At home, Jean is standing in front of the only mirror we have at home, wearing the worn-off red velvet dress I wore in my first reaping. It looks lovely on her, it's so sad that it's for such a tragic situation. Her soft red hair is pulled up into two cute ponytails, and she is wearing a golden chain around her neck.

"Look at you!" I exclaim, trying put a smile on her face. "You look totally fantastic".

She just looks at her reflection, completely pale and nervous.

"Hey, Jean, you don't have to worry about nothing. You only have a 5% chance of being chosen in the selection, and of that 5%, only 1.5% of actually going to those Games. Somebody can volunteer for you, or they can take your name as invalid. Remember, you were prematurely born and during the physical exam they can revoke you, so don't worry Jean" I've been memorizing this statistics since she turned ten. I just regurgitate them every time Jean looks upset about the Selection. I have reached a point in which I don't even know if I say them to cal Jean or to calm myself.

"I know" she mutters with her soft voice, looking down to the floor.

"Hey, Jean, look at me, come on, look at me" I grab her by the shoulders and bend down, until our eyes meet, hers blue, mine deep brown. "Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you. There are thousands of names there. Yours is only once. You are not going to these Games".

We stay staring at each other for a couple of minutes. With her light red hair, freckles and blue eyes, she looks like the upper-class people of the district. Like mum. On the other hand, my hair is a bushy mess of brown curls, my eyes are dark brown, almost black, and my years of hunting have turned my skin slightly tan. Just like the miners and down-class.

Jean looks like she is about to say something, but mum comes in the room, and she shuts her mouth.

"Your dress is in the bedroom" she simply says. She is as terrified as me about the Selection. I nod at her and stand up, kissing Jean's head before leaving to my room.


	3. The selection, part III

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor The Hunger Games**

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The selection, part III

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After saying goodbye to mum, Jean and I head to the Great Hall. It's actually a huge square that it's completely empty and has the town hall just in front of it, usually full of flyers of the Ministry and dirt from the mines, but today it looks radiant and clean. The town hall has also been cleaned, the white marble shining under the spring sun. There are three banners hanging from the building. One is place at the right of the building, red and gold, with a rampant lion on it, with the word "Gryffindor" underneath it. This banner represents the three G districts. On the left side of the building there is another red-and-gold banner, but this one has a huge G of an intricate design along with the Roman numeral 3. That one is the banner of our individual district. And in the middle a huge purple banner with a big white M on it crossed by a wand. That one is the banner of the Ministry.

The square is full of young girls and boys. Some of them, the rich ones, have afforded to wear clothes with the colour of the district, like Ginny. On the other hand, the poor ones, the ones that live more miserably than us, wear in worn-off colours, like browns or ugly greens. Both Jean and I wear red not because we are rich. It's because we are fortunate.

Jean is clenching my hand so hard that her nails are making scratches in mines, but I don't mind. This is her first Selection. She deserves to be nervous. On the other hand, I am not. I know there are kids that have their names around one hundred times. Mine is only 22. My chances only rely in 5%. Harry's are 13%. Ginny's? .95%. Not even one.

And if I ever entered in the games, I know how to make myself look revokable, so they will send the next person in the list. And if I reach the extreme of going to the games... Well, I've survived four Selections. The odds are in my favour. Destiny is guiding me well, they say.

When all the kids of the district are placed in the Great Hall, a colourful dressed man appears in the outside of the town hall. He is g org eons but something about his face doesn't feel okay. Is not the sparkly golden make up he wears on his cheekbones, or the red eyeliner. It's the shape of his face, it's too pretty to be normal, or real. He wears a long sky blue jacket, a white shirt and a pair of golden pants so tight that I wonder how his bloodstream can function. His blue eyes walk through the square, as he passes his hand through the golden curls on top of his head.

This man is Gilderoy Lockheart, the escort of district G3.

"Welcome, welcome, my pretty kids, to the 74th annual Magic Games!" He exclaims giddily with that cheesy and plastic voice of his. "And! May destiny guide you through your path" he smiles, looking t us, as if he is waiting for us to cheer or something. I've heard that those things really happen, but only in the districts S2 and R1.

"Now, now! Enough with the long faces" the amount of optimism this man has is surprisingly high. "We've been called here to select a brave man and a courageous woman to represent district Gryffindor III in this Magic Games" he slowly approaches to a black cube, and takes off one of his ridiculous velvet gloves. "Ladies first!" His hand sinks in the cube, and I hold my breath. Jean, who is placed a couple of rows ahead of me starts to shake. Gilderoy takes out his hand of the cube and walks to the middle of the stage. He opens the paper and his flowery voice says the name.

It's not me.

"Jean Granger!"


	4. The selection, part IV

**_Disclaimer:_** _It'd be really cool. But I do not own The Hunger Games nor Harry Potter._

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The selection, part IV

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The Great Hall is in complete silence. No one is moving. I cannot hear the wind, the birds, my own breathing. Everything has gone silent. My eyes are open in shock. I can feel the spring breeze twirl my curly hair and make small waves on my dress' skirt. But is as if I am not alive. I am in trance.

A little sound, like a small flutter, wakes me up. Lockheart. That's it, Lockheart, he is applauding. Because this is like a game to him, of course. He is applauding, with a dumb smile on his blue coloured lips. I never wanted to punch someone on the face so much.

I see Jean walk up to the stage, slowly and shaking, completely scared. she looks so tiny, so small, so fragile... And I cannot do anything to solve her.

No, no, there must be something I can do within these seconds, come on Hermione, think, think!

Option one, tell her in the couple of minutes we have together before she leaves how to look revokable. Not really possible, the Town Hall has video cameras and microphones. And is guarded by Aurors everywhere.

Option two, let her go. No, that's not even a possibility. I cannot do that to my own sister.

Option three...

"I VOLUNTEER" I shout as loud as I can.

Now all the Great Hall is looking at me, not at Jean, who is the one in shock, looking at me with her bright blue eyes.

"I volunteer as champion of district Gryffindor III" I say as I approach the stage. The Aurors try to grab me, but major Weasley stops them.

"Take her up" he says. I don't know if he knows I am the girls that helps Ginny at class and sells him the opals. "Take her up, come on".

An Auror grabs me by the arms and takes me up to the stage. The sun blinds my vision and I am too dizzy to think clearly. Have I really done this?

"Oh my!" Lockheart starts "We have a gorgeous and fantastic volunteer! Give... Um..." He leans against me, waiting for my name, I suppose.

"Hermione" I mutter "Hermione Granger".

"Granger huh? I bet that was your little sister there".

"Yes" yes, that's my loved and beautiful little sister. And she looks at me so scared as I've ever seen her in her whole life.

"You didn't wanted her to have all the fame and glory, huh? I understand!" He giggles at his own joke, and the amount of reasons to punch him in the face increases, but my body is too numb to move. "Now, now, let's see who will be your male partner in these years games!" He approaches to the other cube, that stupid smile still on his face. When he sinks his hand and pulls a name that I hope is not Harry's. I search his face on the boy's side. He is looking at me as scared as I've ever seen in my entire life, his eyes wide open behind the round glasses.

"Ronald Weasley!" Lockheart chants.

This is definitely not my day.


	5. The Selection, part V

The selection, part V Ronald Weasley is one of those upper class boys that lives in a massive family and could perfectly look like Jean's brother. His father is a madman that calls himself an inventor. He creates from wires of copper and gears small machines that entertain for a couple of minutes. I bought one of those last year for my sister's birthday in exchange for four squirrels. She loved it. I've also seen Ronald helping my sister at class on her first day. He has two elder brothers that have survived the selection, another elder brother that is his first year after his last selection and another two brothers, the twins, whom are facing their last selection. All of them look at Ronald scared and sad. But none of them steps in and tries to volunteer. I did because it was the only option to protect my twelve year old sister. They don't do it because is not worthy to sacrifice themselves for their sixteen year old brother. I know it sounds bad, but when you have death at every corner, you are the first person you think about saving. He walks up to the stage, shaking. He is wearing a grey shirt and worn off dark pants, which surprises me, since he is what you would call "rich". Probably everything is lend-me-down from his brothers. He approaches Lockheart, who is still smiling obnoxiously, and both of them shake hands. "Well, well! It looks like district Gryffindor III has both champions now! Why don't we give then a round of applause?" he squeaks with her sweetly annoying voice, while clapping his hands. I don't expect the people in he audience to do the same thing, they are just staring at us, well, mostly me, in an empty way. And suddenly, the unexpected happens. One by one, the people in the audience raise their index finger to the sky. Some of them grab a stick from the street, simulating a wand. This is a quite unusual thing, and I wouldn't be surprised that Riddle has cancelled the TV emission to the Ministry. They are doing a ritual that used to be done on the death of someone. But it's more than that. Is respect, acknowledgment of a brave action, sadness of the loss. I am in awe at the scenery presented before my eyes. "Aren't they lovely? The customs of rural people? So charming..." Lockheart sings happily next to me. Ron raises his head to look at me with his blue eyes. He looks completely terrified. It takes me a second to realize that it's not because the Games. It's because of me. 


End file.
